


Scrooge

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:31:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John makes Sherlock watch a Christmas movie, and Sherlock finally finds his holiday spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scrooge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starshine24mc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshine24mc/gifts).



> Written for this request: "Christmas fluff--Sherlock hates Christmas, John teaches him to love it--the fluffier the better. Bonus points for first kiss/first time Virgin!Sherlock"
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr](http://thegeekcooks.tumblr.com/)

Sherlock sat hunched on the sofa, arms crossed and knees drawn up, looking distinctly unimpressed.  John walked over, careful not to spill the two steaming mugs as he set them down on the coffee table and took up the remote.

“Why are we doing this again?” Sherlock grumbled.

John sighed as he flopped down next to him, “because it’s Christmas eve, Sherlock. It’s something that people do.”

“Yes, but why John?”

“Because it’s a classic movie! I can’t believe you’ve never seen ‘Scrooge’.” John said, rubbing a hand over his jaw and glancing over at Sherlock, realizing he was quickly formulating a rebuttal.  “This is not under discussion” John interrupted before Sherlock could even begin, “just drink your cider and watch.”

Sherlock let out a small huff, but reached for the mug as John pressed play.  The black and white film lit the small flat dimly, casting dancing shadows over both John and Sherlock’s faces.  John smiled to himself and settled back comfortably on the sofa, sipping his hot mulled cider, letting it warm him.

Sherlock wrapped his long fingers around the mug and took a tentative sip.  The whole flat smelled like citrus and spices from the pot John had simmering away and Sherlock was hard pressed to admit that his efforts had paid off.  The cider was warm, tart, and spicy with the edge of the alcohol dulled with the addition of dark brown sugar. He drained his mug before Marley’s ghost appeared in the film.

Sherlock held onto the empty mug, enjoying its residual heat while he waited for John to finish his own.  He didn’t want to appear too eager.  It wasn’t long before John paused the film and stood up with his own empty mug and started to head into the kitchen.   

“Please.” Sherlock said, holding his mug out to John, who turned around with a surprised expression that quickly turned into a small, satisfied smile.  Sherlock refused to look him in the eye though, and only waggled the empty vessel at him meaningfully.

“I suppose I’m meant to take that as a compliment then?” John laughed and Sherlock gave him a curt nod, his curls falling over his forehead.  John only shook his head and took the mug, bringing it back full and steaming.

John settled back onto the couch and started up the film again, but he was torn between watching it and sneaking furtive glances over at Sherlock sipping the hot cider.  He smiled to himself, inwardly proud of finding something about Christmas that Sherlock could enjoy.  It was useless trying to decorate the flat, or get Sherlock a present, but now John had a secret weapon of Christmas spirit.  

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, looking over at John, “you’re grinning.”

John flushed slightly, “Oh, uh, it’s nothing. I’m just happy you like the cider is all.”

“Ah.” Sherlock answered, turning his attention back to the television.

After three mugs of cider each, the pot was empty save for a lone cinnamon stick and some citrus rinds.  Sherlock wasn’t sure what ghost they were on now, there were meant to be three, right? Did that first one count, or was that an exception?  He didn’t want to ask John and admit that he hadn’t really been paying the black and white screen much attention.

Sherlock’s cheeks were warm from the cider, and he stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle and folding his hands in his lap.  He looked over at John and quirked a smile when he saw that he was fast asleep, still holding an empty mug. He reached over and gently prised it from John’s fingers, setting it down on the table next to his own.

Sherlock took a minute to really look at John in the dim light.  His sandy, close cropped hair, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, his lips slack, that hideous Christmas jumper.  Seeing John like this made something warm blossom in Sherlock’s chest, something he had been trying very hard to ignore for nearly the entire time they had known each other.

_Sentiment_ , Sherlock’s mind growled at him, but just as quickly the rest of him shouted _John_!  He let out a slow breath through his nose.  This was something new, something entirely unprecedented for Sherlock - he thought he might be in love.

John let out a small noise in his sleep, bringing Sherlock’s attention back into the present.  Should he wake him? Leave him on the couch? Sherlock yawned wide.  He wasn’t sure if it was watching John sleep or all the cider, but he was suddenly knackered, and suddenly very brave.

Sherlock tucked his legs up against the arm of the sofa and gingerly laid down, resting his head on John’s denim-clad thighs.  His heart thudded painfully against his ribs as he tried to breathe slowly, evenly, and wait to see if John would wake up.  

But, John didn’t wake up, not until much later when he opened his eyes to the light of the DVD menu, a slightly stiff neck, and a lap full of dark curls.  John blinked, and when the image of Sherlock laying in his lap didn’t disappear, he squeezed his eyes shut hard before tentatively opening them again.  Still the vision persisted.

John breathed slowly, trying hard to keep still and not wake the clearly fast asleep Sherlock that had mysteriously appeared on his lap.  He smiled and wondered what exactly had happened after he had fallen asleep.  Sherlock shifted slightly, a curl of hair falling into his eyes and John instinctively reached down to brush it back off his forehead.

His hand lingered.  He wasn’t sure he had ever touched Sherlock’s hair before, but god, had he wanted to.  John had realized long ago that he was fairly hopelessly in love with this ludicrous man.  He watched the rise and fall of Sherlock’s chest, steady, even.  And his face, his plush lips parted, and he looked so young, so vulnerable.  John sighed, letting his fingers trail lightly through Sherlock’s curls, wanting this utterly impossible moment to last.

Sherlock stirred, rolling over onto his back and John quickly moved his hands down by his sides.  Sherlock blinked his eyes open, briefly forgetting where he had decided to lay down.  His drowsy mind took a moment to realize that John was looking down at him.

“Morning, sunshine.” John smiled and Sherlock looked momentarily horrified until he realized that John didn’t actually seem to be upset.  

“I … must have fallen asleep.” Sherlocked drawled, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Me too” John said his tongue darting out over his lower lip.  They stared at each other for a moment that was just a little too long, just a little too fervent.  The colour started to rise in Sherlock’s cheeks, and he quickly sat up, distancing himself from John on the sofa.

Sherlock chewed his lower lip, refusing to look at John.  He regretted his earlier decision, it had been rash, likely fueled by alcohol.  He couldn’t believe he had actually fallen asleep like that.  Maybe John would just forget about it and everything could go back to normal.

“It’s fine, you know.” John said, “I don’t mind.  It, uhh, it was nice, actually.  I’m always harping on you to get more sleep anyway.” Sherlock looked up to see John smiling at him, all warmth and fluffy jumper, and couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return.

“You could lay back down.  That is, if you wanted” John said, his cheeks flushing, finding it increasingly hard to gauge what exactly Sherlock wanted out of whatever this was.

“I’m not sleepy now” Sherlock answered, but when he saw John’s face fall with disappointment, he quickly added, “but, I am rather cold.”

“Oh” John said and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa, shaking it out and laying it across both their laps.  Sherlock gripped the hem and pulled it up around his shoulders as he sidled over to John, their thighs touching.  “Umm, do you remember where we left off with the movie?” John asked, picking up the remote.

“No” Sherlock answered, leaning his head on John’s shoulder.  John’s heart beat wildly and he swallowed unexpectedly hard at the sudden physical contact, or more truthfully the fact that it was Sherlock initiating it.  “It was dull, John.  Even you fell asleep.”

“Oi now, don’t knock ‘Scrooge’, you haven’t seen the whole thing!”  John turned his head to look down at Sherlock, his cheek brushing against those unruly curls, making him moan involuntarily.

Sherlock was surprised by the noise and turned to face John more directly, make sure everything was alright.  “Sorry” John blushed. “It’s just … I …” John’s words failed him then, and he licked his lips and looked up into Sherlock’s face.  He was so close, so perfect, Sherlock’s whole person seemed focused on John, and it lit a fire in John’s veins.  

“Oh sod it” John mumbled in a huff of breath and closed the distance.  He pressed his lips into Sherlock’s in a rushed and imperfect kiss before pulling back, afraid that Sherlock would push him off and unwilling to let that happen.

Sherlock blinked at him, slightly stunned at the unexpected kiss.  John just stared back at him, lips wet and his eyes showing his fear of being rejected.  Sherlock blinked one more time then leaned in to John, capturing his lips in a deeper, reassuring kiss.

John moaned into it, Sherlock’s lips were soft and full and tasted ever so slightly of cinnamon.  It was everything he had ever wanted.  

Sherlock broke the kiss, running a hand up John’s chest, feeling his soft jumper and the well formed flesh of the man beneath it.  He was breathing heavily.

John grinned and reached up to twine his fingers through Sherlock’s hair at the back of his neck, finally feeling free to indulge.  

“Merry Christmas John” Sherlock said, and John looked over at the clock.  It was indeed Christmas.

“Merry Christmas Sherlock, but don’t think for a second that this gets you out of watching the rest of ‘Scrooge’ with me.”  John grinned and pulled Sherlock in for another kiss.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so awful.”  Sherlock said between breathless kisses.  “Will you make us more cider?”

John laughed at that.  “Of course Sherlock, consider it your Christmas gift.”

“Hmm, I think you’re the best present I’ve ever received” Sherlock rumbled against John’s mouth before going back in for more.


End file.
